


more than one kind of prison

by whimsical whispers (Kiyoko_Michi)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feral Survives AU, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyoko_Michi/pseuds/whimsical%20whispers
Summary: The last time Savage saw his brother, he was disappearing into the distance as Ventress drove them away. Savage tries not to think about him anymore. Feral is safe—or as safe as a Nightbrother can be—and Savage would give everything to keep it that way. He already has.It’s not enough.
Relationships: Feral & Savage Opress, Feral/Quinlan Vos
Comments: 37
Kudos: 104





	1. Savage

Savage wakes in pain and hanging from shackles. He is used to pain by then. It’s an old friend, and Savage accepts its embrace. Breathes it deep to feed the fury in his chest that never seems to fade anymore.

He failed.

In the aftermath, the weight of his failure is suffocating. Ventress was here. Ventress stole his mind again, with a single touch and orders that made everything go distant and green. The past weeks of training were part of some plot, and he was never meant to be loyal to Dooku. Just another tool for Ventress and her revenge. But he'd failed her too before attacking them both. Then he’d tried to run, and he’d failed at that too. 

The chains are hard metal, and the air stinks of sterility and machines. For a moment, he wonders if Dooku or Ventress had captured him after he collapsed. He isn't sure it matters. 

He opens his eyes and finds Dooku watching him. Outwardly, he looks patient. Bored, even, but Savage has learned to read him. Dooku is furious. 

The weak part of him that still fears pain flinches away. The rest of him snarls and faces Dooku with what’s left of his pride.

“I do not enjoy being played for a fool,” Dooku says, and Savage braces himself for punishment.

He can endure. Nothing Dooku does can be worse than the Nightsisters magic. Waking up with an unfamiliar body and a mind under another’s control. Dooku has already tortured him in the name of training, and Savage is very familiar with his new body’s limits. Dooku can always kill him, but Savage has long since stopped fearing death. He can’t say he’d ever imagined being tortured to death, but it’s hardly the worst thing he’s endured. 

At least then he’d finally get to rest.

“I will give you one opportunity to explain yourself. I suggest you take advantage of my mercy.”

Savage almost laughs. Dooku has no mercy in him. Merely the illusion of it, and only when it amused him. 

“The Nightsisters are only loyal to their own. They have their Magick, and I can’t disobey orders. Not from them.”

They can steal his mind anytime they wish now. A touch, an order, and Savage is gone. For that, he’d tell Dooku their plans, if he could. But he’s a Nightbrother and a tool, and he knows nothing.

Dooku watches him, mouth tight in displeasure. “How unfortunate. I had hoped the Nightsisters would be wiser in their course of action. They should have thought twice before deciding to make me their enemy.”

He stalks closer. For a moment, Savage is afraid he’ll touch him like the Sisters did. Like he’s a piece of meat to be assessed and discarded. Of course, Dooku isn’t so crass. He just stares at Savage, lips curled in displeasure.

“It is an unexpected complication to have an apprentice who can be so easily turned against me. I find it quite aggravating. Still, I have already invested quite some effort into your training. I abhor wastefulness, and your usefulness is not yet at its end.”

Savage can’t even pretend to care. Dooku will kill him, or he won’t. He’ll train him and hurt him and toss him away as he wishes. Then Dooku smiles, sharp and vicious.

“I hear you have a brother,” Dooku says, and Savage’s blood runs cold.

Feral is supposed to be safe. He should be in the village, alone and hurting but alive. That’s the only thought that’s made any of this bearable. Everything was worth it, _everything_ , if it means Feral was safe. He has to be safe.

“You heard wrong,” Savage says, and he grunts as Dooku throws him against the wall.

“Do not lie to me, Apprentice! It will only make your punishment worse.”

So Savage bites his tongue and hangs there, feeling bruises bloom to life across his back. Fresh blood slides down his side from a reopened cut, and it’s almost soothing against the pain. Dooku walks closer, still crushing Savage against the stone.

“His name is Feral, is it not? An untrained Nightbrother rotting away on Dathomir. It was quite simple to track him down.” 

Savage jerks, a sound of denial in his throat. They’re not allowed to bring Feral into this. That wasn’t the deal! He comes with them. He obeys their orders. Lets them change him into something he doesn’t recognize. And they leave his brother alone.

Except Dooku doesn’t care. Why should he? He has no reason to acknowledge a desperate deal laid out between him and the Nightsisters. 

Terror settles in his chest. He’d thought this kind of fear had been burned out of him, but he’d been wrong.

Dooku motions, and the chains release him. Savage stumbles as he hits the ground, but he doesn’t fall. He doesn’t attack either. Dooku has proven, over and over again, how Savage is too weak to defeat him. He might have tried anyway, if only in the hope of a clean death, but not if Feral is here.

Please, let Dooku be bluffing. If there is any kindness, any mercy left in the Galaxy, let Feral be far away from this place.

* * *

Dooku brings him to an open, empty room. They stand at a viewing platform, but the ground below is bare. There’s a single pole in the middle of the floor, and shackles already hang at its sides.

Dooku snaps his fingers, and the doors swing open. A group of droids walk in, and between them is-

Feral.

His brother looks bruised and tired, and he’s favoring one leg as the droids push him towards the center of the room. They’ve taken his shoes and tunic, so Feral stands before them wearing only his breeches. He looks scared. He doesn't look up. Doesn't see them on their platform, and Savage is bitterly grateful. He isn't sure he could resist if Feral looked at him and called for help.

“Master, you’ve proven your point. I understand,” Savage says. He doesn’t know what Dooku is planning, but he knows it’s bad. It’s always bad. 

Dooku doesn’t bother looking at him.

“I don’t think you do. Not yet.”

Feral fights when the droids take him towards the pole. He slips out from their grip and knocks two droids over. There are too many of them though, and Feral doesn’t have a weapon. They catch him, force his arms around the pole, and lock him in place. 

Still, Savage doesn’t realize what they’re planning. Not until another droid steps forward and pulls out a whip.

Savage lurches forward, a cry of denial on his lips. He won’t watch this, he _can’t_ , and he isn’t thinking as he turns on Dooku. A wave of Force pushes him to his knees, and Dooku sneers down at him like he’s filth that somehow crawled its way under his boot.

“Attack me and I kill him,” Dooku says, and he almost sounds bored. “This is a test, Savage. Your last chance to prove you are capable of obedience. I have no use for a servant who refuses to accept his rightful place.”

Goddess forgive him, but Savage believes him. 

He stumbles to his feet and retakes his place behind Dooku. He doesn’t look away from Feral. He can’t.

Feral jerks as the whip comes down across his bare back. He doesn’t make a sound, but Savage cries out like he’s the one being tortured. Blood drips from where his claws dig into his palm, but he doesn’t feel the pain. 

The droid pulls back for another strike, and Savage-

Does.

Not.

Move.

* * *

Savage begs. He makes promises he can’t keep, swears every oath he can think of, anything, anything that might make Dooku stop hurting his brother. It doesn’t matter.

The whip keeps coming down.

Feral tries to be strong. By the Goddess, he tries, and Savage can only watch as that strength is ground into dust. He watches as Feral’s legs give out. As his resolve wavers and the first pained sounds are forced out of him. Feral begs, once. Soft, whispered pleas that fall silent almost as soon as they start. 

By the end he’s only hanging there, barely twitching under each new blow. It’s worse. So much worse than when he was still struggling. For a maddening few moments, Savage is terrified that Dooku won’t stop. That he plans to keep hurting Feral until he’s dead. 

Except, finally, Dooku raises his hand, and the droid stops.

Savage almost collapses in relief. He stays standing through sheer force of will and the fear that Dooku will punish Feral again if Savage shows such weakness.  
Feral doesn’t move as he’s pulled down from the pole. He’s lifted into a stretcher, and droids fall into place around him.

Dooku walks calmly down to him. Each measured, unhurried step is agony, but Savage keeps pace. He stays perfectly behind Dooku’s shoulder and barely dares to breathe.

Feral looks worse up close. His skin is pale and face twisted in pain. Savage can barely stand to look at the wounds on his back, but he forces himself not to flinch away. The injuries are bleeding freely, and there’s so much blood.

Savage strains towards his brother, but he doesn’t move. He locks his knees in place and stays behind Dooku. Waiting.

Dooku takes the last few steps to Feral’s side. When Savage tries to follow, he holds up a hand to stop him. Obeying is physically painful, but he does.

Dooku lays his hand on Feral’s back, right across the worst of the wounds. Feral whimpers.

“Do not move. Stay exactly where you are,” Dooku tells him. Then he digs his fingers into the wounds, and Feral screams.

Savage jerks forward, strangling a shout. Every inch of him burns to run forward and throw Dooku off his brother. To rip him apart and hold Feral close. He’s the strong one, the protector, and he has never felt so weak.

It lasts for endless moments before Dooku relents. Feral’s scream trails off into hitching sobs, and when Dooku steps back his hand is covered in blood. 

“Very good, Apprentice. You may yet be worth the trouble of training.”

Savage hadn’t thought it possible to hate anyone more than he hates Ventress. Dooku proves him wrong. The hatred is blinding, almost euphoric in its intensity, and Savage will do anything to see this man broken and dead at his feet. To make it so he can never even look at Feral again. 

“You may move.”

Savage stumbles forward and collapses at Feral’s side. Ignoring the bloody mess of Feral’s back, Savage strokes his cheek, his horns. Brushes away the tears and flecks of blood. Feral’s eyes flicker open, but they’re dazed and unfocused.

“-vage?” Feral whispers, and his hand twitches up. Reaches towards him.

Savage catches his hand and cradles it between his own. Feral’s hand moves weakly against his grip, and he’s shaking. They both are.

“I’m here, brother. I’m so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

He can’t tell if Feral hears him, so he repeated the apology. Over and over until his voice breaks over the words.

He thinks Feral is unconscious by then. He hopes so. Feral doesn’t deserve to feel this kind of pain. He was supposed to be safe. He’s gentle and bright and he doesn’t deserve this.

The droids start to move, carrying Feral away. He intends to follow, but Dooku stops him with a gesture. Savage can only watch as they leave and those doors swing closed once again. Savage knows better than to ask where they’re taking him. He knows better than to say anything at all.

“I trust I won’t need to repeat this lesson, Apprentice,” Dooku says.

“No, Master.”

“Good.”

Dooku sweeps back the way they came, and Savage follows behind him


	2. Feral

After a Nightbrother is taken, they wait a month before declaring him dead. Most of the time, the Nightsisters return their chosen Brother alive. Rarely unharmed, but alive. Killing them is wasteful, after all, and most Sisters either don’t care or want more than one use out of a Brother. It was the way things were, and by now Feral is used to it.

Ventress was different. She hadn’t been looking for a mate or someone to hurt. No, she’d been an Offworlder, and she’d wanted a Champion to fight for her. War didn’t end after a month. There would always be another battle, another fight, and Ventress didn’t seem the type to let go of her toys.

So, Feral knows Savage isn’t coming back. He’d known the moment Ventress chose him. When she’d accepted Savage’s desperate deal and spared Feral’s life. His brother would fight for her and die for her, and Feral would never hear from him again. 

With that, Feral became the last of his Clan. No elders. No brothers or cousins or children. Just him, rattling around the home he and Savage used to share.

He starts spending more time outside the village. There’s always something to gather or hunt. He keeps himself busy and away from that empty house and the pitying stares that follow him. Easier to stay away. His thoughts aren’t good company anymore, but he has little else.

He’s alone when the droids come. He’s never seen a droid before or the strange energy weapons they carry. He fights, and he loses, and he doesn’t _understand_. The droids don’t tell him anything. Not when they take him or during the journey that follows. It’s his first time off Dathomir, and he is afraid. Even the fear feels dull, though. Nothing could be worse than Ventress, and he has little left to lose.

* * *

  
He’s right. It isn’t as bad as Ventress. It’s close, though.

He hadn’t realized he could survive so much pain.

* * *

For a long time afterward, Feral thinks seeing Savage was a fever dream. He’d been half-unconscious and delirious with pain. Of course he wanted his brother. He’d wanted soft touches and comfort where there was none to be found. So he thinks it an illusion, even as he clutches desperately at the false kindness of the memory.

He doesn’t know why he’s here. Nobody asks him question or does anything with him, and he’s left alone after that first day. Droids change his bandages and bring him food. They clean his cell and ignore him. If he fights back, they knock him out. When he destroys one, another takes its place. He heals, and he grows stronger, and still he’s left alone.

He escapes, once. Makes it out of his cell and into endless hallways. The droids find him soon enough. They knock him out and bring him back, and Feral wakes up with a new shackle around his ankle. He’s never been good at lockpicking, but he’s getting better. He thinks he’s close to getting the shackle off.

There has to be cameras. Somebody watching. Doing this to him. He wonders if his escape attempts amuse them. Maybe that’s why he’s here. Why he was taken. For the amusement of some stranger who wants his own pet Nightbrother. In his worst moments, he wonders if that’s what happens to other Nightbrothers who don’t come back from the Sisters. He assumed they died, but what’s to stop the Sisters from selling them off instead?

Nothing.

His thoughts chase themselves in circles, and he hates it. Even when he’d isolated himself on Dathomir, there’s always been something. People in the village and animals in the forest and swamps. Feral hasn’t heard another person’s voice in weeks. There’s no animals, no life, only metal and droids and endless silence.

There’s nothing to mark that day as different. Not until the door hisses open, and Feral jerks upright.

This isn’t when the droids normally visit. It’s different, and for a moment Feral is equal parts excited and terrified. Finally, _finally_ something has changed.

He doesn't expect to see a Nightbrother in the doorway. He’s taller than any Brother that Feral has known. Long horns, thick muscles. Staring at Feral like he’s the most important thing in the galaxy.

Except… Feral recognizes those markings. Knows them better than his own, even if everything else is different.

“Savage?” Feral whispers. 

He stands and reaches towards his brother. Savage falls to his knees and pulls Feral against him. It’s the first time anyone’s touched him in- a long time. Feral freezes, but his body remembers what to do. His hands come up to return the embrace and stroke along the bases of Savage’s horns. They’re longer than they should be, different, and what have they done to his little brother?

“Brother?” Feral says, and his voice is hoarse with disuse. “What’s going on?”

Savage’s grip tightens, enough that it hurts. Feral welcomes the ache. The warmth of Savage’s skin when before everything had been so cold. Haltingly, Savage explains what happened since Ventress stole him.

* * *

Feral holds it together until Savage is ordered away. Then he sinks down, and he _breaks_.

A hostage.

That’s all he is.

The Nightsisters sold Savage to another Offworlder, and Feral is here to ensure Savage obeys. His brother would tear himself apart before allowing Feral to be hurt, and Feral wishes Savage could be more selfish. That there was any chance Savage would leave him behind. But he won’t, and Feral is still too weak to change anything.

He’d been grateful that, this time, he’d been the only one suffering. It’d been the one bright spot of his captivity. Except he’d been wrong. His captors didn’t care about him or his misery. Only how he could be used to hurt Savage. To force his brother into obeying their commands.

Feral curls up tighter and feels tears fall to the floor. The knowledge aches like a kick to the chest, and he takes a moment to indulge in self-pity. He _hurts_.

He wears himself out eventually. He’s drowning in empty time, and boredom creeps steadily back in, dulling even the pain. The ache stays, nestled between his hearts. 

Feral retrieves his makeshift lockpicks and keeps working on his next escape attempt.  
  



	3. Quinlan

Breaking into Dooku’s castle might not be the stupidest thing Quinlan has done, but it’s certainly high up there. Especially considering the mission hasn’t technically been sanctioned by the Council. It totally would’ve been though, if he’d had time to contact anyone. Such a shame there wasn't a chance. 

Right now, Quinlan has a map, reliable intel, and a very narrow window of opportunity. He just needs to pull this off, and the Council won’t be able to complain too much about little things like “proper procedure” and “responsibility.” They’re desperate for good intel and any sort of edge against the Separatists. He needs that intel too because it’s starting to feel like his missions have him running around in circles, always a step behind where he needs to be. Maybe this solution is a bit drastic, but if it works it’ll make the last, miserable month of failed leads and sketchy meetings worth every moment.

So. Dooku’s castle. 

Dooku is confirmed off-planet. There’s an electrical storm rolling in that’ll disrupt any comms. Sure, he didn’t have time for a thorough sweep before breaking into a side door, but that’s just life. Can’t have everything.

He gets past security without a problem. Finds some crawlspaces and wriggles into the ceiling. All things considered, Quinlan thinks it’s going well. At least until fate decides he needs a Sith walking under him to really brighten up his day.

It’s Dooku’s new Apprentice. The Nightbrother.

Quinlan freezes and focuses on his mental shields, weaving his Force presence into his surroundings. _Quiet_ , he thinks. _Nothing to see here, nothing interesting at all._ It won’t hold against a focused inspection, but the Sith doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings. He’s walking quickly down the hall, and-

Ah, kriff.

He’s heading towards the dungeon.

Not many things would inspire a Sith to visit the prison cells, and none of them are good. 

Quinlan… hesitates. He has his mission, and his window of safety is rapidly closing. If he’s smart about this, he’d take advantage of the Sith’s distraction and make directly for a security terminal.

Instead, mentally cursing himself, Quinlan follows the Sith from a generous distance.

The thing is, there isn’t supposed to be anyone in Dooku’s private prison right now. Their side isn’t missing anyone—to his knowledge, anyway—and especially not someone important enough to warrant Dooku’s personal attention. 

So, he missed something. That or whatever poor bastard stuck here is from some personal vendetta.

Quinlan doesn’t much like either option.

He has to take a somewhat roundabout way to the cells—crawl spaces are not convenient—and he finds a good vantage point just as the Sith enters the cell block. He’s flanked by a few droids—intimidation? Not that the giant Sith needs extra—and he heads straight for a cell at the far end. Quinlan braces himself for... something. Rage. Screams. The general Darkness of a full-fledged Sith. He prepares to fight because, well-

Quinlan is good at doing what needs to be done. He wouldn’t be a spy if he couldn’t handle getting his hands dirty. He has his limits though, and he’s not sure whether he can stand by and watch a helpless prisoner get tortured.

Except, the Sith doesn’t even deactivate the bars. He kneels down in front of them and says something too quietly for Quinlan to hear. He stays like that for a few minutes before the droids behind him start shifting and bleating about a schedule.

The Sith reaches a hand between the energy bars, which crackle and spit as he brushes against them. It has to be burning his arm, but the Sith doesn’t flinch. Then he stands and walks away, and Quinlan is left in the near-empty dungeon. 

* * *

He waits long enough for the Sith to get far away. Then he waits a bit longer. The thing is, Quinlan doesn’t have time to spare. He really, really doesn’t. Not in the center of Dooku’s castle.

He should keep moving. Ignore this strange interlude, this single prisoner. He’s here for a reason, and he doesn’t have time for a rescue mission. Getting good intel could save thousands, millions of lives if they can disrupt just one of Dooku’s military campaigns.

Could. Maybe. Or the intel could end up worthless. He could run into trouble and not even reach the security center.

Ah, kriff.

He’s never been the best at making decisions for “the greater good” and all that crap. It’s too nebulous, too easy to twist towards your own selfish goals. Besides, this is a mysterious prisoner in the heart of Dooku’s stronghold. He has to be important somehow so, really, rescuing him might even be the strategic choice.

Alright, so he’s absolutely burning with curiosity. And he’s always been terrible at leaving a mystery unsolved. 

Quinlan lets his Force sense expand into the room. There’s only the one person nearby, a banked ember of a Force presence. He drops down into a blindspot between cameras and picks his way towards a control panel. From there, it’s easy enough to disable the security system. He approaches the cell, unsure what he’ll find.

It’s another Zabrak; a Nightbrother. Bruised and dirty and staring up at Quinlan with wide eyes. He has shackles around his wrists, chaining him to the floor.

With a sinking feeling, Quinlan notes he has the same coloring as the Sith. Similar horn patterns too and the same style of markings. He doesn’t have to be a genius to make the obvious connection.

“Ah, kriff,” Quinlan says. “Gotta say, you are not what I was expecting.”

“I can’t say I expected you either,” the Zabrak says. His voice is quiet and slightly rough in the way of someone who hasn’t spoken much in a while. “I… who are you?”

Quinlan bows with a flourish as he inspects the wall surrounding the cell. Energy bars. Secure, but they relied on tech and an energy source. Easy enough to deactivate if you know how.

“Jedi Master Quinlan Vos, at your service. Currently playing the role of your dashing rescuer.”

He grins, activates his lightsaber, and plunges it into the wall. Machinery screeches as it dies, and the energy bars flicker out. 

The Zabrak jumps and moves closer, raising his hands, and-

Oh, clever man. He’d angled himself to hide the way he’s apparently severed the chain holding his hands to the ground. Clearly he’d been working on his own escape plan. He holds his manacled hands up to Quinlan, who breaks the metal in one clean stroke of his lightsaber.

The Zabrak tries to stand, but his legs buckle underneath him. Too much time locked in place. Quinlan catches him before he falls and supports his weight as he stretches out his cramping muscles.

“You got a name, friend?” Quinlan asks, half to distract him from those first, painful steps.

The Zabrak glances up at him. “It’s Feral.”

His smile is a sweet, genuine little thing, and it makes something in Quinlan’s chest sit up and take notice. He has some muscle in his frame too, the kind that speaks of hard work and training.

He’s also clearly traumatized and shaking in Quinlan’s arms so, with great effort, he reigns in the impulse to start flirting. Quinlan isn’t _that_ kind of asshole.

“Feral, huh? I think I’m sensing a theme.”

That earns him a quiet laugh. “It’s a Nightbrother’s name, that’s all.”

Feral’s steps are smoother now, and he barely has to lean on Quinlan at all. Which is good, considering he has a feeling they’ll need to move really, really fast soon.

“You think you can run?” Quinlan asks as he leads Feral around a corner. No droids nearby, but that won’t last long. Someone will notice his hacks or the broken cell sooner rather than later, and Quinlan plans and being long gone by then.

“I’ll keep up,” Feral promises.

Surprisingly, Quinlan believes him. He has that feel to him; the determination of someone who, come hell or high water, will make it through.

For now, at least, they can take it a bit easier. Good old fashioned stealth. Quinlan keeps to the smaller hallways and reaches into the Force, listening carefully. The Force is quiet here--too much time steeped in Darkness--but it should give him some warning. Enough for Quinlan to feel comfortable starting a conversation.

He has so many questions. Normally Quinlan likes to talk first and think later, but, glancing at Feral, he resolves to at least try to be considerate.

“So, mind explaining what a guy like you is doing in Dooku’s private prison?”

Feral seems to shrink into himself and glances down. He doesn’t answer. Quinlan sighs. He’s really trying not to be the asshole here. Really, he is. 

“Look, obviously there’s something going on with you and Dooku’s newest apprentice. I don’t need the details. If we run into your Sith on the way out, I just need to know whether he’ll help us or try to drag you back.”

Feral’s head shoots up. “You think Savage was the one who- No, of course not! He’d never hurt me.”

“Great! Glad we had this chat.”

In the back of his mind, he’s already chewing through the implications. Making and discarding ideas as his thoughts branch out in whatever pattern they choose. And there is a lot to think about.

Oh man, the Council is gonna hate him for dropping this mess in their lap. 

Of course, it’s not long after that the droids make an unwelcome appearance. A small patrol takes a turn at the wrong time, and the droids open fire. They’re easy enough to take out with a lightsaber, though not before one sends out an alarm.

Things move much quicker after that. Feral was telling the truth about keeping up, which is good since Quinlan ends up pretty kriffing busy tossing droids around. Still, even for him there’s a limit to how many droids he can handle at once. Especially when the heavy hitters start coming out.

Meaning it was time for something drastic.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Quinlan asks as he glances around. 

He’s… pretty sure they’re near an outer wall. 80% sure. Better odds than most of his ideas, honestly. 

“I don’t think so? Why?”

Throwing them around a corner, Quinlan skids to a stop in front of the—probably—right wall and plunges his lightsaber into it. He carves out a hole in quick slices and kicks it free. Clean air and heat hit them: he was right.

“Nailed it,” Quinlan says as he slings his arm around Feral’s waist. He jumps.

Feral shouts and grabs him, which- alright, it’s not an overreaction. Sometimes he forgets how most non-Jedi have very strong opinions about falling. Not that they had much time for a warning.

It doesn’t help that their on the side of the palace that drops off into a cliff. It makes for a rather long fall, though it’s a solid way to loose their pursuers. Temporarily, at least. He softens their landing with the Force, and Quinlan pulls Feral along as they keep running.

* * *

Once a mission is blown, Quinlan has two main strategies. One is to lay low. Wait for the worst of the chaos to blow over and sneak away in the aftermath. The second is to run like hell and pray you’re fast and clever enough to outrun the consequences.

If he’s right about how important Feral is, then option one is out. Dooku won’t stop hunting them, and Quinlan isn’t good enough to hide from an entire army.  
So that leaves running like hell.

The valley below Dooku’s castle is jagged and ugly, all sheer rock and precarious outcroppings. Quinlan stopped them on a ledge about halfway down the cliff, and they soon run out of room as their path drops away beneath them. 

Quinlan eyes the cliffside above them. He looks down at Feral, still breathing hard with a firm grip on Quinlan’s robe.

“Hold on,” Quinlan says, and he uses the Force to leap up the cliff. He keeps a firm grip around Feral’s waist and focuses on finding the quickest path up. The droids notice them when he’s almost halfway.

Feral’s grip tightens as they open fire. Blasterfire is easy enough to dodge though, and they haven’t had time to set up any real heavy-hitters. They reach the top and Quinlan makes a beeline for his ship.

It’s not far. He kept it closed and primed for takeoff, which he is very, very grateful for as his ship comes into view. Quinlan tosses Feral through the open door. No time for manners, they have to _go_. 

He quickly brings the ship to full life and presses the last few switches as the ship rises into the air. A few of the castle defenses fire at them, but they’re no match for Quinlan’s ship. Then it’s just getting up and out and the quick jump to hyperspace. Quinlan waits until they’re safely on their way before relaxing into the pilot seat with a loud sigh. He glances back at his guest, who’s still standing by the doorway. Feral stares out the window with a lost expression.

“We really made it,” Feral whispers. “I thought-”

He trails off, curling in on himself. He’s shaking, and Quinlan belatedly remembers he’s only wearing that thin, sleeveless tunic and pants. No shoes either. Quinlan shrugs off his robe and sets it around Feral’s shoulders. He doesn’t expect Feral to lunge forward and hug him. 

Quinlan jumps, surprised, and for a moment his bare skin brushes against Feral’s. He’s pulled into a memory—

_Savage curled against him, shoulders shaking. His little brother, and he can’t—_

Quinlan jerks his hand away. The vision fractures and fades, but it takes longer for the echoed emotions—guilt and love and a desperate, helpless fury—to disappear. Feral doesn’t seem to notice, and Quinlan carefully readjusts him and starts stroking along Feral’s back. He gets the feeling the guy needs more kindness in his life.

Kriff.

Such a mess.

* * *

Feral falls asleep soon after, exhausted. Quinlan carries him to the lone cot before returning to the pilots seat. He spends a long time there, staring at the comm unit. 

The Council will want to hear about this. He’s overdue for his check-in. Technically he was overdue even before this little expedition, and now he doesn’t even have good intel to soften their disapproval. Dangling Feral would distract them nicely, but… Quinlan isn’t sure that’s the best idea.

Quinlan is a Jedi through and through. He believes in the Order and their mission, and he’d gladly die to uphold it.

But he’s not ignorant of their flaws. Especially now, with the Darkness growing deeper and the war forcing them to play politics more than ever. As soon as Quinlan makes that call, the Council will start debating strategy and morality. More than likely the Senate will get involved--or at least the Chancellor—and then things will really get messy.

Quinlan… doesn’t want that to happen.

Sure, he’s practical. He can be ruthless. Some situations require a more delicate touch though, and he isn’t willing to lose control of this one. Especially not when Feral would be the one paying the price.

So, when he opens his comm link, it isn’t the Council he’s contacting. Well, not all of it.

The link connects, and Quinlan grins in relief.

“Hey, Kenobi. You still on that Sith hunt?”

Even through the hologram, Obi-Wan looks tired. Quinlan almost feels bad about dumping this on him. Almost.

“Quinlan, I’m afraid now isn’t the best time for a social call,” Obi-Wan says.

He pauses, one eyebrow raised in question. Quinlan grins back. There’s a reason Obi-Wan is one of his favorites. The man loves his pretty words and trappings of respectability, but inside he enjoys the thrill of controlled chaos just as much as Quinlan. He’s also known Quinlan longer than almost anyone, and he knows he wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.

“Don’t worry, my man. This’ll be well worth your while. I picked up some game-changing intel ‘bout that Sith of yours. All it’ll cost you is a safe place to stay for me and a guest.”

Obi-Wan frowns. “Did something happen? Are you safe?”

Quinlan laughs and waves him away. “Ah, Kenobi, keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking you care! Nah, I’m alright for the moment. I, uh, might’ve attracted Dooku’s attention in a big way though. Considering I just broke into his castle and stole something very important.”

“Quinlan!”

Quinlan grins shamelessly, and he starts to explain.


	4. Savage

Savage has become an expert in hatred. The Nightsisters taught him well, and Dooku refined his hatred into something terrifying and all-consuming. His anger is a weapon in itself, and he surrounds himself with it, _survives_ within it.

He spends hours preparing himself for the mission. Another planet rejected Dooku’s offer of alliance, and he’s meant to make them regret their choice. Dooku enjoys twisting people into statements, bloody and terrible, until entire planets bow before him. So he sends Savage to the planet’s capital. Small and sprawling, as cities go. Minimal military presence. Enough technology to call for help, but too isolated for it to arrive in time.

Savage approaches on foot. He’s within sight when a hooded figure walks onto the path. The figure takes down his hood, and in his hand is the handle of a lightsaber.

“Jedi,” Savage growls and activates his own lightsaber.

He recognizes this one. General Kenobi. Some bigshot in the war with a gift for pretty words and flashy technique. More importantly, Dooku knows him, and he has a grudge. He’ll be pleased if Savage can take him out. 

Savage is determined to impress Dooku this time. No matter what it takes. He failed his last assignment, and Feral paid the price. His brother is back in a small cell, in _chains_ , and Savage has to fix it.

Kenobi has his lightsaber in hand, but he doesn’t activate it. He just stares at Savage, a strange look on his face.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to end today without bloodshed,” Kenobi says.

Savage would laugh if he still had the energy for such things.

“Are you a fool, Jedi?” he asks. Surely he knows who Savage is. What he does. 

“No. But I do believe I have information you’ll find interesting. One of our agents found someone while he was infiltrating Dooku’s castle.”

Savage freezes. His grip spasms around his lightsaber handle.

_Feral_.

Terror chokes his chest, and he snarls at the human. Wants to fight, to _hurt_ him, but he holds himself back. He has plenty of practice now.

“What did you do?” he shouts.

Kenobi’s calm expression doesn’t waver. “Rescued him, of course. We’re Jedi. Protecting people is our purpose.”

So they took him. Relief and fear mix unpleasantly in his chest. They hadn’t hurt him. Hadn’t _killed_ -

No, they’d stolen him. That changes everything.

“Prove you have him.”

Kenobi reaches into his robes and pulls out a small holocube. With a twist, it activate to show a holo-image. Feral is at its center, unmistakable despite the poor quality. A darker skinned Jedi sits at his side. Feral is smiling.

Savage reaches out with the Force and crushes the holocube in Kenobi’s hand. Those kriffing Jedi have his brother. Savage wants to plunge his lightsaber into Kenobi’s chest, but he can’t.

So. 

He has a new Master now.

“What do you want?” Savage forces out. Each word hurts, and Savage can’t bring himself to call the man master. Not until he forces the matter. Savage is just- he’s _tired_. He’s so kriffing tired. There’s always another fight, another mission, and he keeps making mistakes. He has so much blood on his hands, and it’s never enough.

Bad as it was, he was almost used to Dooku. He knew what Dooku expected. The punishments. Now he’ll have to learn it all over again, and he has no expectation of mercy from them. Not after what he’s done. The Jedi he’s killed.

They have more reason to hate him than Dooku ever did.

If their vaunted mercy is worth anything at all, he only hopes they’ll be kinder to Feral than Dooku was.

A wry smile curves at Kenobi’s mouth. “What I want? There are many things I want, I’m afraid. A quick end to the war, for one. Information on Separatist strategies would also be quite appreciated.”

“Fine,” Savage growls.

The teasing grin falls from Kenobi’s face, replaced with a contemplative look.

“My assignment was to find you and protect this city. I had hoped that, with Feral out from under the Count’s control, you could be convinced to leave without a fight.”

Such fancy language to dress up a threat. Dooku had been like that too. All pretty words and euphemisms. Always so disappointed, so _regretful_ when Savage needed to be punished for his mistakes. Talking as if Savage had a choice when refusal would end with chains on Feral’s wrists or that whip across his back.

Kenobi wanted him to leave. Fine. Dooku’s mission means nothing now. Only one thing was actually important.

“Where is my brother?” 

“A confidential location. I’m afraid it is necessary to keep him safe from Count Dooku.”

Kenobi tosses something at him. Savage catches it without looking away from the Jedi.

“Coordinates for a neutral meeting spot,” Kenobi says.

Savage pockets the datastick. If he keeps holding it, he’ll end up shattering it in his grip. Kenobi doesn’t say anything else, so Savage turns and leaves without being properly dismissed. With Dooku, that kind of disrespect would’ve warranted a punishment, but Savage can’t bring himself to care. Not now.

Savage has gotten very good at obeying orders. Sometimes, it feels like that’s all he knows how to do anymore. Do this, do that. Shove away any objections and pray that this time it’ll be enough, but it never is.  
  



	5. Feral

Feral barely remembers the flight away from Dooku’s castle. He remembers a rather embarrassing breakdown and knows he slept through most of the rest. Then Quinlan woke him up on some strange planet and led him into a sprawling building. The complex is something between Dathomir and Dooku’s palace. Still metal and sharp edges: clearly military too. But there are _people_. 

Most of them are in armor, and the ones without are all human with the same brown skin and tufts of hair. It takes Feral a few moments to realize they’re identical and to connect them to Savage’s stories about Clone troopers. They stare as he passes, and Feral looks away, overwhelmed.

For months, he’s been alone. Isolated. He hadn’t realized how bad it’d been until he feels the faint imprints of dozens of different minds surrounding him and nearly weeps in relief.

Their Clan is strong with the Goddess’s gift—the Force, as Savage now calls it—and Feral has always been good at sensing people. Good at finding them and feeling emotions, and he hadn’t realized how much it mattered until he was taken and the world fell silent. 

Quinlan brings him to a small room. Bare-bones, just a cot and a ‘fresher, but private. Quinlan leaves, making some noise about plans and contacts. He leaves his cloak though, and Feral pulls it tight around him. He’s still cold, and he feels like a mess. His emotions are raw and overwhelming, and he’s so, so tired. He lays on the bed and quickly falls back asleep.

* * *

When he wakes, there are guards at his door.

Feral credits his initial exhaustion for why it took him so long to notice. He hasn’t opened the door yet, but he can sense them standing out there. They feel bored and curious, and they haven’t moved since he first noticed them.

Feral tries to think the best of people. Maybe they’re meant for his protection. Or to make sure he doesn’t stumble into something classified. Yet, for all of Quinlan’s kindness, there is a war, and these are soldiers. Savage has spent months fighting against them, and Feral doesn’t know these strangers. Still, he gives them the benefit of the doubt. He opens his door and looks at the two Troopers. They’re in full armor. Blasters at their side. He wants to believe they’re here for his safety, but he can’t quite manage it. 

“I’d like to go outside,” Feral says quietly.

The Troopers look at each other. They don’t move.

“We’ll have to ask the General. Please go back inside,” the one on the left says.

Guards, then. Keeping him here. He wishes he was angry, but he just wants to cry.

“Alright,” Feral says and doesn’t move. He breathes in. Connects with the Force as best he can. Throws it out, and the two Troopers go flying.

Feral runs. 

* * *

All things considered, it’s his best escape attempt yet. This place is smaller than Dooku’s palace. There’s more hallways and hiding spots. Best of all, he’s dealing with people, not droids. People have Force presences, and Feral can sense them coming. He can avoid and misdirect, and for one shining moment he thinks he might make it.

Then he sees Quinlan.

He skids to a stop, surprised. Quinlan’s Force presence is oddly muted, almost blending into the background. Part of Feral perks up, curious at the strange technique, but it’s almost entirely eclipsed by despair.

Quinlan is a Jedi Master. He’s strong, and Feral has no chance against him. He’d been so close. Not that it matters; a failure is a failure. He'll fight, though. He’s good at that. Fighting even when it’s pointless.

Quinlan raises his hands and smiles that same, friendly grin from before. It’s very convincing.

“Hey, calm down a second, alright? I’m not interested in a fight.”

Feral really, really wishes he could believe him. Maybe it’s even true. Quinlan would probably prefer having Feral surrender easily. He’d seemed kind. Kindness doesn’t stop people from doing terrible things, though. Not if they decide it’s worth it.

“There’s nothing stopping you from doing the same thing as Dooku. I won’t be a prisoner again,” Feral says quietly.

“Whoa, we’re nothing like that asshole! I swear I’m trying to get you and your brother far away from the war. It’s just taking a moment to figure out logistics. We got blindsided by this tangled mess of yours; can you give us a bit of patience?

He looks so earnest it hurts. His Force presence feels genuine too, which is even worse. 

“Am I a prisoner here?”

“Of course not! We’re trying to protect you.”

Feral chokes on a laugh. Protect him. Such a wonderful excuse for making him do exactly what they want. 

“I’d rather leave,” Feral says, and the words feel like broken glass in his throat.

He’s wanted to leave since the droids took him. Hells, he’s wanted it since he was a child and first realized what it meant to be a Nightbrother. He wanted to be free his entire life, but there’s always, always been someone stronger stopping him. He knows he can’t win against a Jedi. He just hopes he can make the victory _hurt_.

Quinlan sighs, frustrated, and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Look, Dooku is going crazy trying to recapture you. It’s not safe for you to be on your own, and I swear we’re-”

Feral interrupts him. “I don’t care. Am I a prisoner here or not?”

He won’t let Quinlan hide behind his pretty platitudes. If they’re trapping him here, he wants Quinlan to look him in the eyes and admit it. 

Quinlan looks away first. “No. You’re not,” he says quietly. “Kriff, I- _Kriff_ , you can leave. I’ll make sure you get out of here myself.”

Feral’s first thought is that it’s some sort of trick. Not that Quinlan needs one; if Quinlan wants to lock him up, there’s nothing Feral can do to stop him.

“Please don’t lie to me,” Feral says quietly.

Quinlan grimaces. He feels like guilt and determination, but Feral can’t sense any deception. He reaches towards Feral and stops when Feral flinches away.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling back. “Closest exit is this way. It’s a workers’ entrance, so we shouldn’t run into many people. I’ll cancel the alarm too.”

Hesitantly, Feral follows. He expects… something. He’s not quite sure what. Quinlan stays quiet though, and he activates his comm unit only long enough to order the men to stand down. Just like he’d promised. Feral still doesn’t quite believe him. Not until Quinlan throws open the door, and they’re outside.

Feral had barely registered being outside yesterday. It’d only been a few moments, and he’d been so tired. Barely able to stumble along beside Quinlan and reeling from their successful escape. Now, Feral is wide awake, and the sight of the open air is almost overwhelming.

It’s nothing like Dathomir. The colors and plants are wrong, and even the animal calls are unfamiliar. It’s even less like Dooku’s prison though, and Feral had been trapped in those lifeless rooms for far too long.

Quinlan is watching him, frowning. “Ah, kriff, you don’t even have shoes. Give me one minute, alright? Literally one minutes before you run off.”

Feral nods, and Quinlan disappears back inside. He’s alone. Feral stares up at the sky. At the forest nearby. It’s quiet. 

He thinks about running. Nobody is close enough to stop him. There’s a chance Quinlan will change his mind, and Feral will look back at this moment and hate himself.

But he wants to trust Quinlan. He needs to know that people exist who won’t betray him.

Quinlan slams the door back open as he returns. He sees Feral, and his relief bleeds into the Force.

“Here,” Quinlan says and shoves a small bag into Feral’s hand. “Some shoes, rations, credits. The works. Nearest spaceport is a days travel North. You’ll be able to get anywhere in the mid-rim from there.”

Feral lifts the shoes out of the pack. The leather is good-quality, soft and worn, and Feral strokes along an almost invisible scar in the material. 

“I think we’re about the same size. They’ll probably be a bit big, but it’s better than nothing.”

A lump in his throat, Feral tugs them on. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

He looks at Quinlan, and he hesitates. Then he turns away, and he leaves. 

* * *

Days later, Feral feels Quinlan approaching long long before he arrives. The Jedi isn’t trying to hide this time; his Force presence shines brightly, and it stands out against the quiet forest. He’s moving slowly too. Giving Feral plenty of time to run.

Feral considers it. He’s not sure he wants to see Quinlan again. Doesn’t really want to be near anyone except his brother. Savage isn’t here though, and Feral has no way of contacting him. Nightbrothers aren’t allowed technology on Dathomir, and Feral doesn’t know anything about comms or spaceports. He isn’t sure how to avoid Dooku, and he would rather die than be recaptured. After all this, he’s still so afraid.

He hates it.

The worst part is that he’d be willing to try. If he really had no other options, he’d go and take any risk if it meant getting one step closer to his brother and freedom. But every time he starts, he remembers Quinlan’s kindness. 

Freeing him from Dooku could have been selfish. Part of some greater strategy. But… he’d been gentle when he helped Feral stand. He’d comforted him when he’d been overwhelmed after their escape. Had given him his own shoes, and Feral is still wearing the soft leather. Feral wants to believe that kindness means something. 

So, Feral stays where he is and waits for Quinlan to arrive. He’d found a small outcropping near a lake. It’s quiet. Beautiful, in an alien way. He doesn’t look up as he hears footsteps approaching. Quinlan stops just behind him, and Feral can sense him hesitating.

“You’re still here,” Quinlan says eventually.

Feral nods. He can’t even try to explain. Doesn’t understand it himself. He doesn’t know how to move forward and he can’t go back, so he’s just… stuck. With a sigh, Quinlan sits down next to him. 

“Hey, I mean it about helping you,” he says gently. It hurts worse than cruelty would’ve, and Feral flinches away.

“I don’t know what you want,” Feral says.

It has to be something. Kindness isn’t enough. Not with wars and soldiers and the galaxy splitting itself apart. Quinlan had abandoned his mission to rescue him, and he must want something in return. Maybe it's not a hostage or threats, but it has to be _something._

Quinlan sighs and leans back. The side of his robes brush against Feral’s shoulder, and he remembers how Quinlan had wrapped those same robes around him after they’d first escaped. It’s a good memory, and it aches.

“This is me being really blunt, alright?” Quinlan says. “Your brother being a Sith is a big kriffing deal. He’s strong and dangerous, and I want him the hell away from this war. Right now, I feel like we’re getting off easy by throwing you at him and letting this mess resolve itself.”

He smiles at Feral and spreads his arms, grinning. “So! We reunite you. The two of you run off. Boom, no more Sith Apprentice. Everyone wins!”

He sounds so honestly enthusiastic that Feral can’t help but laugh. He just… he _likes_ being around Quinlan. It’s not just gratitude for the rescue. Quinlan’s Force presence is soothing: bright and cheerful and vibrant. He’s been kind, and it feels genuine. Nothing at all like Dooku.

Feral has always considered himself a good judge of character. He’s good at reading people, good at Sensing their emotions, and he doesn’t feel any deception from the Jedi. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but Quinlan feels trustworthy.

“You swear you won’t hurt him?” Feral whispers, and it feels like giving in. Like trust and relief, and he wants it so badly it aches. 

“On my honor as a Jedi, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you and your brother end up safe and reunited.”

Quinlan puts a hand on his shoulder, and Feral hesitantly meets his eyes. He feels serious and earnest, and Feral…

Feral believes him.


	6. Savage

Information, at least, is easy to get. Savage finds a tactical droid. One of the fancy ones with enough personality to be afraid of threats. He’s Dooku’s Apprentice, after all, and he only needs that extra edge to get access the tactical files. He orders the droid to download whatever is most important, and, when he has the datacard in hand, he leaves.

He hasn’t seen Dooku since before Feral was taken. He’s not sure what Dooku will do once he realizes he’s lost his leverage, but Savage plans on staying far away from the fallout. 

So, he leaves. He steals credits and an unmarked ship. Trades them for something untraceable at a disreputable port, and he follows the coordinates Kenobi gave him. He focuses on each step at a time, and he doesn’t let himself think about the future. He doesn’t hesitate as he lands and prepares to meet the Jedi.

He can sense them out there. Waiting. And… Feral is there too.

Savage honestly hadn’t expected that, and he takes a moment to get himself under control. He’d expected the Jedi to hide Feral away, dangling him out of reach until Savage proved himself. They were showing their hand early.

Or… or they were planning a demonstration. Like Dooku had.

His hand hesitates over the panel for the outer door, and a small, scared part of him wants to turn around and hide. He can’t watch that again. He _can’t_. But they’ll only hurt Feral worse if he runs now. He has to go.

In one motion, he opens the outer door, and he starts to walk. He isn’t even off the ramp before he sees Feral sprinting towards him. Savage catches his brother on instinct, and he just…

Freezes.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

He hadn’t handed over any information yet. There’d been no demands, no orders. He’d hoped for a glimpse of his brother at best, but this is… it doesn’t make _sense_.

He can feel Feral shaking against him. His uneven breaths against Savage’s shoulder. Savage’s mind is full of static, but his body remembers how to comfort his brother. He returns the embrace and strokes at Feral’s horns. Shifts his weight so Feral’s back is less exposed to the Jedi watching them.

Kenobi is there along with the Kiffar Jedi from the holo. Neither have their weapons out, and they're several paces back.

“What trickery is this?” Savage says, voice hoarse.

There has to be something. There’s always something. A catch, a tracker, a _threat_. 

The Kiffar steps forward, hands outstretched. Savage tenses and tightens his hold on Feral.

“No tricks. We’re Jedi; we’re not the kind of people who keep hostages or make threats.”

Savage growls, lost and furious. “You expect me to believe-”

Feral shifts in his arms, pushing away, and Savage falls silent. He refuses to take his eyes off the Jedi, but he can feel Feral looking at him. Worrying about him, like he always does.

“Savage, I’m fine. I think they’re telling the truth,” Feral says. “They’ve been kind. We can _go_.”

Feral calls them kind like it’s something precious, and it makes something in Savage’s chest hurt. His feet feel rooted to the ramp, and for the first time it hits him that they can run. Feral is right here, and they’re practically in his ship’s doorway. Dooku had never let them get so close to escape. It feels wrong, like a trap, but he’s not so hopeless that he won’t try. Not yet.

He shoves Feral behind him and up onto the ship’s ramp. He doesn’t take his eyes off the Jedi, but they don’t try to stop them.   
  
Something digs into his palm, and Savage realizes he’s holding the datacard in hand. The one he took from that droid.

Savage thinks about crushing it. A small, petty act of revenge. They don’t have Feral to threaten him with, and he wants them to hurt. Some days he wants everyone to hurt, and he-

But Feral wouldn’t like that.

He throws the datacard to the ground before following Feral up the ramp. He takes the last step inside his ship and closes the door. Reactivates the engines and takes to the sky. His hands are shaking by the time he punches in the coordinates. He doesn’t relax until they are safely in hyperspeed, and then he collapses back into his seat. He’s still waiting for something to go wrong, though he isn’t sure what.

It can’t be this easy. It _can’t_. 

A hand brushes against his shoulder, and Savage jerks. 

_Feral._

He lurches forward and pulls his brother close. He’s twisted awkwardly and the chair digs into his side, but it doesn’t matter. Even if this is somehow a trap, at least he has this moment.

Feral eventually coaxes him out of the chair, and they slide to the floor. Savage doesn’t care. He pulls Feral closer and tucks Feral’s head against his shoulder. He wraps his arms around him until he’s a barrier between Feral and the rest of the galaxy. Like this, nobody can even touch his brother. There’s no Dooku to order him away. No Sisters to threaten him or Jedi to stand between them. 

Feral wriggles one arm free and reaches up to return the embrace. He strokes gently along Savage’s back, and Savage realizes Feral is purring. A low, rasping rumble meant to comfort him because Feral has always known when Savage is falling apart. 

Savage’s grip tightens around Feral, and he has to remind himself to be gentle. He’s stronger now, and it’s too easy to hurt people. For now, they sit there, and he can pretend he’s able to protect his brother.


	7. Quinlan

Turns out that a datacard full of Separatists intel and strategies can soothe a lot of feathers. Still, the Council had plenty to say to him, starting with his unsanctioned infiltration on Serrano and ending with his decision to let a known Sith wander freely into the galaxy.

Quinlan doesn’t regret it. Force, he wouldn’t have regretted it even without the intel. It’s not often he manages to give someone a second chance, and the two Zabraks haven’t given him reason to regret it yet. It’s been months since Feral vanished into his brother’s ship, and they’d disappeared so thoroughly that even Quinlan hasn’t heard anything. Not that he’s been looking.

Nah, he’s had plenty more important things to be doing. He has the datacard and a thousand more leads to investigate. Most of them he’d passed onto the Council to do what they wanted which, predictably, included involving the Senate. But some…

Some he’d left out of the briefing. He’s played this game a long time, and sometimes the most important leads are the first to fall apart at an indelicate touch. He hands a couple over to other Jedi Shadows. People he trusts.

The ones about weird dealings by Kamino? Those he keeps for himself.

The creation of the Clone Army is still the greatest mystery of the war. They’ve tried to investigate it before—Force, Quinlan has looked into it himself—and it’d always come to nothing. The leads dry up. Witnesses get killed. Evidence vanishes and info gets erased. It’s enough for Quinlan to call foul, but he still doesn’t know who.

So, this time, Quinlan doesn’t tell a soul about the new intel, and he investigates it personally.

He has several new people to track down first. Trainers that Fett hired himself to start teaching the Clones. Most of them are old-school Mandalorians, and Quinlan is tentatively hopeful they’ll know something.

Of course, Mandalorians tend towards the seedier parts of the Galaxy. So it’s really no surprise when a fight breaks out next to him. He thinks it’s over money? Some payment dispute? Not that it matters, as the fight spills into the rest of the bar and somebody tries to brain him with a bar stool. So Quinlan punches him in the face.

Turns out that guy had friends, and Quinlan ends up the focus of the entire group. Normally, Quinlan wouldn’t break a sweat, but he’s technically undercover and trying to keep a low profile. Jedi tricks? Not subtle. He’s just about resigned himself to losing when someone tackles the person about to deck him. He gets a quick glimpse of horns and brown skin before he’s drawn back into the fight.

They’ve worked through about half of his attackers by the time Quinlan gets a good look at the guy helping him. To his surprise, Quinlan immediately recognizes him.

Feral? What-

Someone breaks a glass over his head, and Quinlan forces himself to focus on the fight. Questions later. Self-defense now. Between them, they make quick work of the others, and Quinlan finally has the time to take a proper look at him.

Feral is just finishing with their last attacker, a large Devaronian with a vibroblade. He ducks under the Devaronian’s attacks before ramming into him, sending him crashing into the bar, where he flips over the low counter and doesn’t get back up. Quinlan whistles, impressed.

Honestly, Quinlan hadn’t expected Feral to be a brawler. He’d been subtle, clever with his breakout strategies, and Quinlan had made a few assumptions. He is very happy to be wrong, and he keeps grinning as Feral turns towards him.

“Feral! You’re looking _good_ ,” Quinlan says. It’s true; the Zabrak has put on some muscle, and there’s an ease to his frame that wasn’t there before. He looks comfortable. Happy, even. It’s a good look on him.

Feral smiles at him, and it’s the same small, gentle thing that Quinlan remembers. Quite the contrast against the blood dripping from a small cut to his cheek and the groaning bodies laying at his feet.

“You as well. I wasn’t expecting to stumble across you this far out in the Galaxy.”

Quinlan shrugs. The last holdouts of the bar fight are finishing up, and the winners laugh and start ordering new drinks. Quinlan motions for two of his own, and he hands one over to Feral with a wink. Their fingers brush, and Quinlan grins.

“Duty calls,” he says and takes a swig. The liquor is strong and cheap, mixed with an odd assortment of spices that make it barely palatable.

“Where’s your brother?” he asks. From what he’s seen, he’s surprised the other Zabrak isn’t hovering behind Feral’s shoulder. The guy had practically screamed overprotective last time they’d met. Not that he blamed him, considering the situation.

Feral points behind him, and Quinlan easily picks out Savage leaning against a wall and watching them through narrowed eyes. He looks better too. The armor is gone, replaced with simpler clothing in the same style as his brother, and so is the Darkness that had clouded around him last time they met. There’s still an edge to his Force presence—something dangerous and unpleasant—but it’s much better than before.

Freedom is a good look on them both.

Quinlan raises his glass towards him in a salute, and Savage pushes away from the wall to join them.

“Jedi,” Savage says as he gets close.

“The name’s Quinlan, actually. Do you mind keeping the Jedi thing on the down-low? I’m trying to keep a low profile here.”

They hadn’t been slinging around any Force techniques, at least, so Quinlan is tentatively hopeful his cover is intact. Nobody bats an eye at a good bar fight, and he might’ve even earned some clout by winning. Heck, just talking to Savage is getting him some impressed stares, so Quinlan mentally shrugs and decides to make the best of it.

“C’mon, let’s grab a table. There’s gotta be at least one unbroken one left. You want a drink?”

“No.”

“Eh, suit yourself.”

Quinlan takes another drink and walks to a table. He has to pull it off the ground and dust some broken glass off, but it’s good enough. He sprawls across one of the seats and waits expectantly for the two Zabraks to join him. Feral comes first, and Savage trails behind him, guarding his back.

“So, undercover?” Feral asks as he sits beside Quinlan.

He nods. “I’m tracking down some Mandalorians at the moment. Skulking around disreputable corners of the galaxy is my specialty.”

“Like dashing rescues?”

Surprised, Quinlan can’t help but laugh. “Exactly! I’m a man of many talents. So what brought you two around here?”

“Oh, this and that,” Feral says with a shrug.

Quinlan can respect someone wanting to keep his secrets, so he doesn’t push. He’s curious, but not _that_ curious. Especially when it’s safer not to know.

“I should thank you, actually,” he says, turning towards Savage. “That intel you brought us was incredibly useful; I wouldn’t be here without it. I don’t suppose you remember anything else ‘bout Kamino or the creation of the Clone army?”

It’s half a joke and Quinlan doesn’t expect a real response, but Savage takes time to think before responding.

“The Kaminoans? Long necks, looks like a breeze could break them in half?”

Quinlan slowly nods. It’s an accurate enough description. “You met some?”

Savage hesitates. Shifts his weight. He’s uncomfortable, Quinlan realizes with surprise, and he doesn’t settle until Feral sets a hand on his arm.

“I saw Dooku talking to them once. Something about schedules. He seemed pleased.”

Yeah, Quinlan really doesn’t like the sound of that. His mission suddenly feels a hell of a lot more important.

“You hear anything else?”

Savage snorts and leans back.

“Dooku was upset I saw anything at all. He knew exactly how much I hated him.”

Which, fair. Of course Quinlan isn’t lucky enough for him to have overheard any names or hints about what the Separatists have actually done. He’s increasingly sure there’s something terrible waiting for them, and Quinlan is determined to figure it out.

Feral glances between them, and his face smooths out into resolve.

“This mission of yours. It’ll help take down the Separatists?”

“That’s the goal.”

“Then I want to help.”

Savage makes a protesting noise and grabs his brother’s arm. “Feral, that’s not-”

“Oh, hush. You think I haven’t noticed you sneaking off to get in fights?” Feral says. He gentles his tone. “I’m angry too. If this might actually hurt Dooku, then I want to help.”

Savage visibly disapproves, but he doesn’t argue again. Quinlan takes another drink and considers the situation. He’s gone undercover with other people before. Definitely wouldn’t object to having some backup while going after Mandalorians, and he has a bad feeling this mission is going to get dicey before the end.

“I’d rather not be the reason the Separatists find you again,” Quinlan says.

“They could find us any day. I don’t want to run forever.”

Alright, fair. He turns to Savage.

“What about you, big guy? You’re not looking too happy.”

“I go where he goes.”

Quinlan nods, unsurprised. He can’t say he’s excited about working with Savage—too much bad blood—but the guy seems reasonable enough now that he’s away from Dooku. Quinlan can adapt.

Besides, working with Feral is a hell of an upside. He has a pleasant Force presence—gentle, with a bedrock of durasteel—and Quinlan just saw him take down a half dozen people. He’s always had a soft spot for men who can hold their own in a fight. It doesn’t hurt that he’s _very_ easy on the eyes too.

Quinlan catches Feral’s eyes, and he winks.

“If we’re gonna be working together, we should get to know each other better,” Quinlan says, grinning innocently.

Feral’s eyes widen in surprise before sweeping down to give Quinlan a once-over. Judging by the mischievous smile Feral hides behind his glass, he likes what he sees.

“Good advice,” Feral says. “I’m sure it’ll be my pleasure.”

Feral’s voice is different than before; a little lower, _rougher_ , and his smile has a bit of teeth this time.

Savage glances between them and groans. “Feral no,” he says.

Feral laughs, gives his brother a shove, and turns back towards Quinlan. He raises an eyebrow in a silent question. Quinlan grins and raises him a toast. He’s not intimidated, and he’s risked plenty worse than a disapproving brother. Especially since Savage seems more embarrassed than vengeful. Quinlan can deal with that.

Maybe Feral will be up for a private sparring session later. That’s always an interesting way to get to know someone, and it can lead to some _very_ promising encounters afterward.

Yeah, Quinlan likes his chances.


End file.
